


Margaritaville Christmas

by Tenoko1



Series: Christmas Cruise [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: BroBondCC, Brotp, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Vacation, Cruise, Drinks on the beach, Fluff, Gen, No Incest, Parent Dean Winchester, mention of Castiel and Jack Kline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 11:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16832110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenoko1/pseuds/Tenoko1
Summary: There was a pause, a beat of silence filled with the sounds of gulls overhead and waves on the shore, the heat that was gonna leave Dean with more freckles that he had already.Sam rolled his head around to look at him over his sunglasses. “Do you remember when you taught me to swim?”





	Margaritaville Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Each fic in series can be read as a stand-alone if you choose. _Margaritaville Christmas_ was written for [BroBondChristmas 2018](https://brobondchristmaschallenge.tumblr.com/), a challenge focused on Sam and Dean as a platonic brotp and best friends.

Rolling his neck, Dean stretched and groaned in pleasant relief as muscles pulled and joints popped before flopping back down into the lounge chair.  
  
Sam smirked at him from the adjacent chair, hazel eyes sparkling with mischief over his sunglasses. “Getting old there, Dean?”  
  
The waves rolled onto the shore in a soothing melody, the heat of the sun making him lethargic as a house cat.  
  
Humming through a smile, he tilted his head back, face toward the sun. “Maybe,” he admitted, “but what a way to do it.”  
  
Admittedly, the plane ride to get them all to port and then on the cruise ship had been intimidating, but with enough Benadryl in his system, he didn’t remember most of it.  
  
His brother snorted a laugh and settled back in his blue canvas lounge chair. He had one leg drawn up, hand balancing an ornate blue cup with colorful umbrellas and a pineapple slice wedged on the rim. There was a bucket of beers and lime wedges in the sand between them as Dean pushed himself to sit, looking around for one of the staff and flagging him over.  
  
“Gonna need more beer. How's your tutti-frutti there, Sammy?”  
  
“Higher alcohol content than your entire bucket, Dean,” he answered, snide and proud. He popped off the pineapple wedge and bit into it. “I need another.”  
  
Dean laughed, grinning as Carlos came over, brows raised and ready to serve. “Hey, my man, he needs another one of whatever that is and I need--”  
  
“You should really try one, Dean, just saying,” Sam insisted. “I mean, unless you can’t handle it, then stick to your beginner beers.”  
  
Licking his teeth, Dean laughed. “Imma need one of those, too, then. Screw it, we’re on vacation and it’s Christmas. We need two of the fruity monstrosities and another bucket of beer and lime, please.”  
  
Carlos scurried off with Sam’s finished drink and Dean continued holding himself up on one arm looking over the beach and people enjoying the sand and surf.  
  
“Where are Cas and Jack?”  
  
“Swimming lesson, remember?”  
  
Dean looked at him.  
  
His smile was soft, eyes glinting. “Cas took Jack to a class so he can learn to swim.”  
  
Smile crooked, Dean settled back. “I’m kind of sorry I missed that.”  
  
“Not like he needs an audience or hovering trio of parents embarrassing him.”  
  
"I forget all the things he doesn’t know,” he admitted. “I know he’s still just a baby, but it feels like he’s older. Or maybe I just take it for granted, I don’t know.”  
  
There was a pause, a beat of silence filled with the sounds of gulls overhead and waves on the shore, the heat that was gonna leave Dean with more freckles that he had already.  
  
Sam rolled his head around to look at him over his sunglasses. “Do you remember when you taught me to swim?”  
  
He laughed, teeth flashing and mouth pulling back in a grin. “Oh my god, yes. The things we got up to with no adult supervision it is a wonder child protective services didn’t get called on us more often.”  
  
“The little rinky-dink motel pool--”  
  
“No lifeguard--”  
  
“A wonder we didn’t end up with some fungal infection--”  
  
“I’m still not certain you didn’t.”  
  
Sam grinned, eyes warm in a way that made Dean’s chest seize with the reminder his baby brother had turned out so good. Despite everything. And Dean had a hand in that.  
  
“Dad was out on a hunt--"

"Story of our lives."

"--and you taught me to swim.”  
  
He rolled his eyes. “Had to figure out some way to teach you to coordinate those ungainly limbs,” he said just as Carlos returned with their bucket of beers and two blue glasses. Dean considered his with a dubious expression. “You were still a squirt back them. All tiny and awkward.”  
  
“That was the difference, though,” Sam insisted. Dean turned. He pointed his pineapple slice at him. “ _Dad_ put us through boot camp obstacle courses and _weapons_ training and memorizing _latin exorcisms_ when I didn’t even know _monsters existed_. _You_ taught me the important stuff.”  
  
Dean pushed out his lips. “...that _was_ important, Sammy.”  
  
“Yeah, but _you_ taught me to walk. And _you_ taught me to talk. And to _read_.” His close-lip smile stretched on one side so his dimple showed. “And _you_ taught me to swim.”  
  
Flushing, Dean dragged his gaze away, concentrating on using his pineapple to stir his drink. Their entire childhoods could very well be summed up in days spent alone in a motel while their father was out on a hunt or his mission of revenge. Summers were probably the best and worst of it because with school being out, what was available to occupy two small boys was limited and they could only stand being enclosed in four-walls for so long.  
  
He remembered getting them both up and dressed, carefully locking the door to their room and pocketing the key. He’d barely been able to see over the counter of the front office when he’d asked the receptionist where the library was.  
  
Then he’d led Sam by the hand to the small public library and sequestered them away in a corner on beanbags, Sammy situated in his lap as Dean read him the _Hardy Boys_ novels and _Batman_ comics, finger trailing over the words. He remembered the way the librarian had given each of them a cloth bag they’d filled up so they could take books back to the motel, then acting out sword fights from a kid version of the _Three Musketeers_.  
  
It was one of the stories they were reading that made Sam twist in his lap in the middle of the story, head knocking Dean in the chin before looking up at him with wide-eyes like God had given him a life-changing revelation.  
  
“I wanna learn to swim.”  
  
Dean had blinked, caught off guard and trying to think how he was supposed to respond to that. Then, he’d remember the tiny pool among the motel’s boasted (meager) attributes.  
  
“Okay.” He didn’t have a clue how to teach Sam how to swim-- Dean didn’t even know how to swim, not really-- but if that was what Sammy wanted, why not?  
  
His face lit up like Dean had promised him an early Christmas and candy buffet. “Really?”  
  
“Sure,” he chirped, head bobbing on a single nod. “It’ll be an adventure.”  
  
He’d spent evenings after dinner-- after settling Sam in with cartoons on tv-- getting in the pool and teaching _himself_ to swim. Teaching Sam in the shallows was one thing, but didn’t do either of them any good if one day Sam needed saving.  
  
On the beach with the sun beaming down and drinks making him sentimental, Dean grinned, toothy and lopsided, before reaching over to ruffle his brother’s ridiculous hair.  
  
“Somebody had to look after you.” He tilted his head, considering him. “You turned out alright, I guess.”  
  
Sam nodded, lips pursing in a failed attempt to not smile. “Could be worse. I mean my traumas are great and many--”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
“--there was that time you made mac-and-cheese with marshmallows--”  
  
“You loved that!”  
  
“--or that time you tried to give us both a hair trim--”  
  
“I got better!”  
  
He rolled his head around and grinned at him. “Buuuut you also stayed up late going over my homework and finishing my science projects.” He shrugged a shoulder. “As far as parenting goes, you got all the important parts right.”  
  
Heat flooded Dean’s face and he looked away, feeling his neck and ears burning. “Shut up, “ he muttered. “You were a horrible brat, I don’t know why I put up with you.”  
  
He laughed. “Well, someone had to raise me.”  
  
“You’re drunk, Sam, shut up.”  
  
The fond expression was still on his features when Dean stole a glance, making him turn, brows furrowed in confusion.  
  
“What?”  
  
He shook his head. “Nothing. Just getting to see you be someone else’s dad kinda made me have a whole new appreciation for all the parenting you did for me.”  
  
Dean smiled into his drink, teeth clasping the edge. If Sam kept on, all the blushing was gonna do far more damage to his skin than the sun was. He didn’t think he could get any redder.  
  
“Yeah, well…” Unsure how to follow up, he smirked and held his drink out between their chairs. “Merry Christmas, Sammy.”  
  
He clacked their plastic blue glasses together. “Merry Christmas, Dean.” His grin grew wider. “Welcome to Margaritaville.”  
  
Settling back into his seat, Dean's smile was broad and toothy. “Best. Christmas. Ever.”

\--

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